Kindly Remove Yourself From My Mind
by Primipassi
Summary: High School/Camping AU: It's finally summer. All Castiel wants to do is keep Dean off his mind, and spend some time relaxing at home. All Dean wants is to get Castiel away from his thoughts, and maybe get laid. Unfortunately, neither of them get their wishes, but they get something even better, instead.
1. Death By Wedgie

_**A/N:** so, I kind of got stuck on the progression of the plot on FW, but I'm using this story as a kind of jump starter, as well as something to lighten the mood. While it does have some darker tones in places, and of course, a little angst, this is a lot more light hearted and funny. It's easier to write, too, for some reason, which is odd. Anyway, this one will be updated as soon as I get the next chapter done. _

_It's a nice relief from all the angst about the whole hate on Misha ordeal, too. It's like a little happy haven for my soul during all the angsting. I'll see you all at the end! _

_**Disclaimer:** IF I owned Supernatural, I would cry every night, because my plots would look like a high schooler wrote them. Because I am. 'I've only been writing for four years,' I'd say, 'Oh, I didn't know you couldn't show that on public television,' I'd say, 'I think we need a little more porn between the angel and hunter right...there...and...ah, yes, there too!' and so on and so forth. _

* * *

The halls of Lawrence High school hummed with last-day-of-school excitement as Castiel rode the wave of people leaving the school building. He would miss learning, but he definitely wouldn't miss any of the people.

Okay, that wasn't entirely true. He'd kind of miss the neurotic mumblings of Chuck, who would spend entire class periods working on his story. He supposed he'd even miss Becky spouting things out about couples and books and shows that Castiel never understood. Only a little, though.

Of course, there was one thing Castiel would miss the most. Dean Winchester. Not that the school's most popular guy would miss him. In fact, they'd only spoken to each other for the first time a couple of weeks ago, and it hadn't gone particularly…smoothly,

"_Hey, do you have a pencil I could borrow really quick?" Castiel knew the voice belonged to Dean, who sat behind him, but Dean Winchester couldn't be talking to him. He'd practically been invisible to the majority of the school population since he'd started here. Not to mention Dean was the most popular guy in school, as well as the strongest player on the football team. No, Dean was probably talking to someone beside him. He wished he had their luck. _

"_Hey, you, in the tax accountant get up," he whispered louder. _

_Castiel froze. It looks like he __**did**__ have their luck. Only he'd just completely screwed __**that **__up. Already. _

_He nervously turned in his seat to face an amused Dean, one perfectly shaped eyebrow raised. Castiel stared. This was it - his chance to make the best possible first impression. He'd planned things like this out in his head before - how he'd approach it with a charming smile, and not seem nervous or strange,_

"_Do you get your eyebrows shaped?" Well that had come out sounding a lot different than 'Of course.' _

_Castiel sat, horrified for what felt like minutes as Dean's amusement flickered out, and he frowned. Castiel was horrible at making out what expressions meant, but he was fairly sure Dean wasn't okay with what he'd just asked. _

_Castiel realized that the few people sitting around them had stopped to watch their conversation, and were waiting for Dean's reaction. Castiel turned his gaze back to Dean just in time to see a smile the size of Texas spread across his lips. Castiel couldn't help but notice that his eyes were crinkling, his smile was so wide. Castiel wondered if maybe he'd gone insane. Suddenly, Dean burst out laughing, Castiel watching on in shocked confusion. _

_How in the world was that funny? he thought. _

_It wasn't two seconds later, and the people who had heard the outcome followed Dean's suit, and laughed, although theirs sounded lifeless and forced in contrast to Dean's, natural and genuine one. _

_They reminded Castiel of imps. _

_Castiel continued to stare at Dean until he stopped laughing, not sure what else to do. When Dean glanced at him awkwardly, and cleared his throat, though, Castiel decided it would be a good time to just turn back around. So he did. _

After that, Castiel tried not to so much as meet Dean's eyes, afraid he'd get a look of disgust, or annoyance, or anger. Or worse - be treated like a joke and a complete loser. He'd rather just watch on in appreciation, and pretend he hadn't even said the most ridiculous thing ever to the hottest guy in school. That got increasingly harder to do, however, thanks to the harsh looks he'd gotten from a couple of the people that were in the class that day.

Castiel didn't understand what they were so bothered by, since Dean hadn't even attempted to talk to him again after that incident, but they must have found something to hate, because he could feel them staring at him sometimes. It was mildly disturbing. Not to mention the other football players had cast strange looks at him. He was suddenly not so invisible anymore, and the change was beginning to make him feel uncomfortable.

He resolutely decided that he'd take the time off of school this summer to try and get over this…fascination, he supposed, with Dean. He wanted to get to know him, for some reason. He wasn't sure what those emotions were, jumbled up in the pit of his stomach, but that's what they told him to do. It wasn't going anywhere, though, nor would it, and Castiel really didn't like that someone he'd never get to know could have so much of an influence on his moods.

He was really bad about that. Even his brothers, who'd practically raised him, he kept at arms length in regards to feelings. It was probably unhealthy, but Castiel wasn't sure how to change it, and he really wasn't strong enough to try, if he was honest with himself.

He finally made it past all the warm bodies, and out into open, even warmer summer air. He took a deep breath, taking in the summer smells of freshly mowed grass, and flowers. He loved all of the seasons, but Summer, for some reason, smelled the best to him.

Castiel looked around, spotting Michael's red sports car, the hood down due to the weather. Sure enough, he was sitting in the front seat, aviators on and lips set in a hard line that he always wore. Castiel's older brother wasn't what one would call the smiling kind, though he did crack jokes sometimes, it was mainly just to make someone else laugh. Michael was twenty six - rounding him in at nine years older than Castiel, who was seventeen, and six years older than Gabriel, who was twenty.

Michael was a car salesman, which he happened to be extremely good at. He had a way with words - he could really worm his way into people. Gabriel, on the other hand, was currently going to the college just outside of town. He was, unsurprisingly, taking the most obscure course - The Joys of Garbage. It was ironic, because his part time job was as a janitor.

Michael drove Castiel home after school most days, but today was the first day he'd picked him up in the convertible. It was a pleasant surprise, and Castiel grinned and waved when his brother saw him. He smiled back - the kind reserved only for Castiel, since he generally, again, didn't smile much. Castiel felt eyes on the back of his head as he strode towards the car.

Michael happened to be good at attracting a lot of attention. The car was brand new, and the kids probably noticed that. His older brother was also, apparently, very attractive, from what he'd heard. Right now, he could hear numerous girls giggling, and when he turned around, sure enough, half of the kids outside were staring at them.

Castiel's mind clanked in annoyance. _What, do they think just because I'm quite, I'm some aristocratic know it all? _The thought annoyed Castiel even more. _You know what, this is the last day of school, I might as well make a scene. _He turned to the glove box in front of him, and pulled out a pair of his own aviators his brother had gotten him for Christmas, and then proceeded to take off his over coat and tie, unbuttoning the first two buttons of his white dress shirt.

He heard another girl squeal somewhere, and he smirked. He usually kept his love for attention under grabs, but it ran in the family, and resided core deep. It reared its ugly head sometimes, and now apparently was one of them, much to Castiel's inner dismay.

He turned and smiled at Michael, who was watching him with amusement, and with a nod of his head that communicated pretty much everything between them, Michael began to make his way out of the drive through, and out onto the crowded street where even more kids were walking to the parking lot. Castiel wasn't particularly known for being very cool, he was mostly awkward, but he did learn a few things from the natural flow of his brothers over the years, and he knew how to look natural, even if it felt strange. He sat his right arm over the slot where the window would be if the car were closed, and let himself slouch a bit so it didn't look like he had a 'stick up his ass', as Gabriel would say.

It felt unnatural to him, but it was kind of fun to be a little different than usual. Be a little daring. He supposed that was probably due to his age. He'd read a lot of articles about how between ages 15 and 18, boys and girls start taking more risks, and going outside of their comfort zone. He supposed it was a sort of 'find yourself' phase, and the risk taking was just part of it.

He heard a few whistles from the group of girls they'd just driven by, and though Castiel knew they were probably mostly directed towards his brother now, it was still slightly gratifying. They slowed to a stop behind the line up of cars in front of the stop light. There were clashing sounds of yelling kids, engines, and some loud bass coming from at least three different cars. Castiel looked to his right, feeling mildly content.

That was, until one Dean Winchester appeared not more than four feet from the car on the side walk.

_Oh, I forgot he walked home._

Castiel was about to turn away and pretend like he wasn't there, all his confidence from a few seconds ago racing away from him. He suddenly felt a lot more stupid. Dean had already spotted him, though, so hiding wasn't going to help anything. He cast a half-hearted smile towards Dean, who returned it with his own radiant one.

Castiel thought he saw Dean's eyes drag along his body, but it was probably just the sun. He was sure, though, that he saw Dean wink at him before he turned down a street and disappeared. Castiel stared after him, open mouthed.

_What in the world just happened? _He asked himself as he sunk down into the seat like a limp rag doll, no longer interested in keeping up his cool act. _Did Dean Winchester just wink at me? Why is it so hot all of a sudden? _He reached for the water that must have been Michael's and took a long swig as his older brother began to speak beside him,

"That your boyfriend?"

The water just wasn't meant to stay in his mouth, he supposed, because now it was sprayed all over his pants and the dashboard in front of him,

"Pardon?" the question sounded horrified, even to himself.

_I don't like Dean like that! He is just particularly intriguing, is all. I just wanted to get to know him…I think that was my sentiment…_

_(-)_

Castiel trudged into the house, trying feebly to air out his moist pants. It was a useless fight, though, so he resolved to simple take them off, and throw them in the wash along with his shirt. He walked into the kitchen sporting only his boxers, not that Michael really cared. They had lived together for many years, after all, though now Michael lived in his own apartment, and only came by to eat and talk to Castiel sometimes.

Michael was currently scoping out the fridge for anything he could heat up and eat right away. He found some left over pulled pork from a few days ago that Castiel hadn't finished. He turned around, and, seeing Castiel, gestured towards the food in his other hand,

"Are you going to eat this, Castiel?" he asked, and Castiel shook his head,

"No," Castiel replied, "Have all you want," Michael smiled respectfully, and went to heat it up in the microwave while Castiel grabbed a big glass and made himself some ice water.

He sat down at the table to drink it, Michael joining him about ten seconds later,

"So, Castiel, I need to tell you something," he began, and Castiel glanced up at him, already suspicious. Anything that started off like that couldn't be good news.

"Yes?" he questioned, his eyes beginning to narrow at his older brother. Michael didn't even flinch, though. In fact, his face resembled a very serious statue. Whatever he was about to tell Castiel, he wouldn't be able to do anything about. Castiel knew that look meant Michael had already decided, and it was done. Now, all Castiel could do was hope that whatever it was wouldn't be too horrendous,

"I signed you up for a traveling summer camp," he stated matter of factly, digging into the pork fork first. Castiel sat contemplating that. A few things went through his mind just then.

One. His brother had signed him up for something without asking, which was out of line completely, and Castiel really didn't feel that was very fair.

Two. What was a traveling summer camp? He got the just of it - but where would they be traveling to, and why?

Three. This sounded expensive. Then again, Michael had just gotten his tax return, but he'd said he really didn't know what to do with it. The company had been doing really well lately, and his brother suddenly had more money than he really wanted anything to do with.

Four. This, however, would probably be a great way to get his mind off of Dean. Maybe even make some new friends, if he was feeling brave enough.

"Okay," Castiel agreed. Michael stopped eating, and glanced up at him. Castiel realized he must have been expecting him to be angry, hence why he asked about the food before he told Castiel. It made sense.

"Okay?" Michael asked, looking honestly surprised. It was a strange look on his brother's face - he was never really surprised, and prided himself on knowing exactly what peoples' reactions would be. Castiel figured it was probably really unnerving for him right now, so he decided to ease his strain,

"It was very rude of you to sign me up without asking, but I suppose it won't be that bad," he explained, and Michael relaxed a bit, "Besides, I do not really have a choice, do I?" he prompted, and Michael shook his head,

"You're right, you don't," he agreed, and Castiel nodded once, sitting up straighter in his chair. The slight sound of the melting ice in his glass shifting reminded him of its presence, and he downed the rest of it in one go. When he was done, he took the glass and placed it in the dishwasher, closing it gently afterwards,

"When am I scheduled to leave?" Castiel questioned, feeling the chill of the ice water work its way through his body, giving him goose bumps. There was a moment of silence where Michael finished chewing, and wiped his mouth before he turned to point at a brochure on the counter top,

"You'll be leaving tomorrow for…I believe Glacier National Park, in Colorado," he began, "The lists of all the places are in there," he went back to eating his food as Castiel opened the brochure.

It unfolded and Castiel stared as it did so. It had so many pages it almost touched the floor. He glanced over the first part - the generic stuff you hear everywhere about how they've been doing this since 1975, and have been enriching teens lives with the history and beauty of nature and education around the country. Two pages later, after an extensive section on how exactly it enriched lives, which Castiel felt wasn't really mandatory, was the list of locations and dates.

Locations -

May 20 to 26 - Glacier National Park in Montana

May 27 to June 2 - Brown County State Park in Indiana

Castiel kept reading, and felt a thrill go through him that was half nerves and half excitement. It kept going, and going,

"Michael, you are aware that this traveling camp lasts the duration of twelve weeks, right?" he questioned, realizing that was the entire summer that would now be down the drain - at least in terms of what he wanted to do on his own, not that he was sure what that would be anyway. Michael had finally finished his pork, and was getting up to throw it away,

"Yes, Castiel, that's why I chose it," he answered, sounding what Castiel believed was exasperated as he opened the cabinet beneath the sink where the trashcan was located. Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion, and when Michael glanced over at him, he let out a sigh,

"You would have essentially just sat and waited until school started again, you wouldn't do anything, and that's not healthy," Michael explained, "You need to socialize," Castiel's nose scrunched up. He supposed his brother was right, but that didn't mean he had to be happy about it. He stomped out of the room, half because he knew that's what his brother expected, and half because he felt indignant.

He knew his people skills were not very strong, but it wasn't as though he were an invert. Okay, perhaps he was a tiny bit of an invert at times, but wasn't everyone? Maybe not. These people really confused him. Life, in general, confused him sometimes. He supposed that was nothing new, though.

_(-)_

Dean smiled as he walked into the house, Sammy trailing a couple of feet behind him. He was greeted by his mom hug first, and for once, he accepted it without feeling the slightest twinge of annoyance. In fact, he actually reciprocated.

His mom then moved behind him to give Sam a hug, too,

"So, how was your last day of school?" she questioned, all gentle smiles and expectant eyes. She always asked how school went. Everyday. Sometimes it annoyed him, but his mom was the most amazing person he'd ever known. He loved her, so he didn't care.

Sam and Dean answered her question at the same time,

"Good," was Sam's,

"Great!" was Dean's. Mary looked at Dean, and he knew she could see a change in his mood, even if it was miniscule. She raised her eye brows,

"Oh, and what is it that made it great?" she asked, as Sam chuckled under his breath before leaving the two in favor of the kitchen. Dean grinned at his mom,

"You know that guy I told you about that was so funny, in a really weird endearing kinda way? The one I thought might be really mad at me when I laughed at him?" he questioned, and Mary nodded, looking as excited to hear what he had to say as he felt,

"I walked past him on the way home, and he actually looked at me and smiled, he didn't look away for once," Dean gushed, brilliant smile becoming impossibly wider. That is, until he heard the distinct noise of Sammy's spit take in the other room, followed immediately by laughter. Dean frowned,

"What the heck is wrong, Sam?" he asked, annoyance flickering in his voice,

"Oh, nothing, you just sounded like a little girl with her first crush, or something," he chortled. Dean was instantly seething.

_I'm not a fucking sissy, Sam._

He stomped away from his mother, and into the kitchen, where Sam was eating fruit loops. Or, he was about to, until he saw Dean, and a secondary look of horror passed over his face. He was out of the chair in a flash, and they did the familiar tango around the table - Sam trying to avoid Dean's grasps at all costs,

"I'm sorry, Sammy, I think I heard you say I was a sissy," he growled, and Sam laughed nervously,

"Oh, you know, I was just joking," he volunteered, and Dean narrowed his eyes,

"Then take it back," he shot in return. Sam flinched. He knew Dean wouldn't hurt him, but when he was this mad, he was still scary as all hell, and there was still the danger of him getting a very uncomfortable wedgie.

Death by wedgie.

That just didn't have a very heroic ring to it.

If Sammy had ears, Dean knew they'd be pressed to his head right now in defeat,

"You're not a sissy, Dean, I'm sorry," Sam spoke quietly, and Dean decided to drag this out, hoping Sam would get the picture. _I'm not a sissy. And I sure as hell don't have a crush on a guy! _He had himself convinced as of now, at least.

Sam blushed, and grinded his teeth, obviously feeling a bit humiliated at the whole situation,

"I'm sorry, you're not a sissy, Dean!" he blurted loudly, and crossed his arms in time with a pout. For being a freshman in high school, his floppy haired little brother sure acted childish sometimes. Dean, finally satisfied, nodded,

"Thanks, Sammy," he approved, turning away. Sam grumbled something about 'Don't call me Sammy,' but Dean ignored it, and went back in the living room to see Mary folding the laundry on the couch. She glanced up at him, a light of amusement in her eyes,

"Was, that really necessary, Dean?" she asked with a small smile playing on her lips. Dean shrugged,

"For me, yeah," he stated, "I'm going to go take a shower," he informed before heading up the stairs. He saw his mom shake her head again, as he started on the trek to the second floor.

He thought to himself as he went.

_Of course I don't like him like that! He's a guy, for fucks sake! I mean, yeah, it was kind of hot when he didn't just give me what I wanted. Nobody ever does anything like that to me. Wait….fuck, did I just say hot! Shit, I really need to get laid._

_(-)_

John wasn't at dinner that evening. He was running late on his way back from Oklahoma. Dean's father was a traveling architect, and he went all over the states hunting for jobs. He'd helped create numerous well known buildings, and high rises in multiple big cities. His income was large, but that didn't really make up for his absence. Especially to Mary, who always looked heart broken and disappointed when she got that call from dad saying he'd be getting in late, and to eat with out him.

Every time he saw that tired look on his mom's face, he disliked his father a little more. However hard Dean tried, though, he never truly hated his father. He had many good memories with his Dad from when he was younger, and even now, when he did get to spend some quality time with his father, John always found a way to make it into something memorable.

It was a constant clash in his mind whether his father was good or bad. Dean didn't have the ability to see anything in shades of grey, even his own family, and it caused copious amounts of inner turmoil.

The conversation at diner that night headed off by a phrase that always set Dean on edge,

"Dean, there's something I need to tell you, dear," his mother stated after taking a couple bites of pasta salad. Dean stopped, his fork frozen in one of the green beans,

"What?" he asked warily, and Sam stopped for a second, too, glancing between them, then deciding he'd just ignore it for as long as was possible, and went back to his food. Mary cleared her throat,

"Your father and I signed you up for a traveling camp, and you're leaving tomorrow," that was very like his mom - though she was loving, and gentle, she was the type to just rip the bandage off all at once - get right to the point. And right now, there was a very painful sting,

"Without even asking me?" he asked, "What if I had other plans?" he asked, voice eerily calm. He actually had numerous parties he'd promised to go to, and he was going to practice with the team, and in fact had planned on trying his hand with wooing Lisa Braden. This was his last summer of his high school year, technically, and he so didn't want to spend it in the woods with bugs and bears and instructors breathing down your neck every second. Mary stared him down,

"Well, you don't anymore," she answered, and Dean nearly yelled the next words,

"So you just take advantage of me not being eighteen yet, sign me up to something without mentioning it to me, and suddenly tell me I'm leaving tomorrow?" he wasn't thinking in the heat of the moment, voice raised, "Do you want me to be like Dad?" he was steaming, and when he realized what he'd just said, he felt a pang of guilt. Mary looked like someone had just smacked her across the face, but she gathered herself quickly, and, in a stern voice that wasn't to be argued with, said,

"Dean Winchester, as long as you live in the house, you will do what I say, and you will go tomorrow whether you're happy about it or not," she said firmly. Dean squared his shoulders, and looked down at his food. He suddenly didn't feel like eating anymore.

"I'm going to bed," he muttered quietly, and went up to his room to blast some AC/DC into his ears. It was official - his summer was completely lost now. Great. Just fucking great.

_Fuck everything._

_(-)_

Dean's self pity fest was interrupted by a knock on his door,

"I don't wanna talk," he yelled. There was a huff on the other side of the wood,

"Dean, it's Sam," his brother said, and after a moments thought, Dean hesitantly opened up the door, and let his little brother in, closing the door behind him.

Sam sat down on the end of Dean's bed, and Dean fell across it next to his little brother.

They sat together in comfortable silence for many seconds, before Sam took a breath and finally spoke,

"You know, it probably won't be that bad," he ventured, and Dean gave a breathy laugh,

"Says you," he replied sarcastically. Sam turned to him,

"No, really, there are sure to be hot, smart girls there," Sam smiled, and Dean glanced at him quizzically, a smile of his own playing on his lips. His brother knew him better than pretty much everyone,

"You really think that's all I think about, Sam?" he asked, looking as incredulous as was possible for him. Sam pretended to think for a moment,

"Mostly, yes," Sam decided. Dean rolled his eyes, knowing Sam was just messing with him,

"And," Sam suddenly continued, "You didn't let mom finish earlier - Jo is going, too, Ellen wants her to experience something other than our little town," he finished, and Dean suddenly felt a little less moody,

"Really?" he questioned, and Sam nodded. Jo and himself had been friends ever since they were about five. They tried to date once, but it just felt terribly wrong, so they decided to just stay best friends. She knew the most about Dean, right after Sammy, that is,

"Huh, well, maybe you're right, maybe this won't be too terrible," Dean said, looking at the ceiling. He suddenly felt guilty again about what he'd said to Mary. He vowed to apologize to her first thing in the morning. Sam must have sensed his thoughts, as he often had a tendency to do,

"She knew you weren't going to be happy about it," Sam said, sounding for all the world like a mother himself. Dean really, really cared about Sam. While their mom had raised them lovingly, Dean and Sam had still always turned to each other for every problem they had. Dean suddenly felt another painful pang, and frowned,

"I'll miss you," he said quietly, gaze fixing on the ceiling again as he heard Sam shift beside him. He knew how chick like that had sounded, but fuck it, he was having a moment, and he was aloud to say things like that in a moment,

"I'll miss you too, eventually," Sam laughed, and Dean gave him the evil eye. The moment was over quickly, and Sam got up to leave the room, feeling the prudence of his presence dwindling. He was just out of the door when he sang,

"Who knows, maybe your boy crush will even be there," and Dean sprung straight up, _That sneaky little brat! _Dean wasn't truly mad this time for some reason, but he was all too willing to chase his brother to his room, only giving up after realizing it was locked. He sighed, and forfeited, deciding to take that as a cue to go to bed.

Tomorrow was bound to be horribly interesting.

Castiel woke the next morning to the dulcet chirps and tweets of summer birds. He groaned.

_Just….just fifteen more minutes…_

And he was already out cold again. He was usually a quick riser in the morning, but he'd been awake until the early morning hours most nights for the last couple of weeks, hoping fleetingly to avoid his dreams. He didn't always get what he wished for, though, as all people do not, and he was no exception.

For once, though, his dream this night had been influenced greatly by Dean's earlier gesture. Castiel knew dreaming of him was probably odd, and most likely had a meaning he completely missed out on, but he couldn't bring himself to care at all. It was heaven compared to the nightmares.

Even if sometimes, Castiel swore something flickered, and for a nanosecond Dean was in drag, which was horribly disturbing and yet, somehow, mildly intriguing.

* * *

_Reviews are like kisses from Angels! _


	2. Castiel is Screwed

_**A/N:** Thank you to all the reviews and story alerts so far! :) Sorry it took so long to get out the second chapter, but I have a tendency to toil over my stories until they're just so. As always, reviews are highly appreciated and definitely help me write faster :D _

_I'll see you all at the end, because I'm too tired to make a terribly long note..._

_Disclaimer: I do not own the show, or the characters. _

* * *

Dean woke up to use the restroom at about five thirty in the morning. He ran into the door frame of his room on his way back, but only reacted with a grunt, sleep fogged brain too tired to exert the excess energy yelling required,

"That's what I get for challenging Gordon to a soda drinking competition," he sighed as the pain in his shoulder slowly trickled away and he fell back into his bed with a thump. He'd had to brush his teeth three times last night to get all traces of sugar off his prized pearly whites. He wasn't going to be making the mistake of ever challenging him again, that was for sure. That guy could drink like a line backer, which was precisely what Gordon was, actually.

He closed his eyes, hands moving over the soft fleece blankets underneath him. He didn't really need them on his body, but he usually slept on them, the texture itself acting as an antidote to slow his thoughts.

Though the air conditioner was on, the temperature remained at about seventy four degrees inside their house during this time of the year, since his mother refused to waste energy and allow them to turn it down any lower. Dean, who slept with sweats and a wife beater on, found it just the right temperature to fall asleep without the use of any blankets or sheets. It was one of the many small high points of the summer months.

He rolled onto his side, taking a deep breath, then letting it out slowly as he gave his body the chance to relax completely.

Behind closed eyelids, Dean saw a flash of blue eyes. Not just any blue eyes, though. The kind of magnificent merge between cracked ice, cerulean sea, and stormy grey-blue sky that only belonged to one person in Dean's mental file box of faces. Castiel Novak.

The first time Dean had gotten a good look at them - granted at the time, they'd been filled with horror following the dealing of an extremely off-the-wall comment towards Dean - he knew that they had to be the most beautiful set of eyes he'd ever seen, and possibly ever would.

It wasn't just the color, though, that had thrown Dean for a loop. There was something else there; something much more profound and deep that Dean simply couldn't put his finger on.

His dignity would never allow him to actually admit to thinking that, of course. Nor would it let him admit to seeing those eyes in his dreams numerous nights since their first encounter.

He decided to pin all these strange thoughts on the fact that he'd been too busy lately to…well, go out and get busy with someone.

With football practice, and social events, as well as the dreaded homework assignments calling for Dean's attention, he really hadn't had that kind of free time.

_Hopefully_, he thought as he drifted back into sleep, _Sam'll be right, and there'll be some hot girls at the camp. _

* * *

Castiel finally woke up again about four hours later, opening his eyes only to be blinded for a second by the light flooding in from his window. He groaned, and placed a hand over his eyes. It felt refreshingly cooler in contrast to his forehead,

"Hey, bro, I wondered when you'd wake up," the voice came from one of the chairs to Castiel's left. His hand slid off his face, and his head fell to the side, an annoyed glare aimed directly at a completely unfazed Gabriel. Castiel felt that his brother's greeting to the waking world didn't warrant a response, so he continued to glare, thinking as he did so about the likeliness of there being some sort of trap awaiting him the second he stepped out of bed.

Then he remembered what he had to do today, and his head flipped to the other side of the room where the alarm clock was, eyes wide in worry. Rightfully so, too, because the clock currently read 10:30, meaning he had only an hour and a half to get the rest of his belongings together, get ready, and get out to the airport.

Castiel sat straight up, fixing Gabriel with a stony stare, lips tight in anger,

"You turned the alarm off?" it wasn't so much of a question as it was a statement, though Gabriel took the liberty to treat it as though Castiel were giving an essay that needed an extended response,

"Of course, Cassie, I mean, I'm not going to get to see you all summer, so I have to get at least one last trick under my belt before you go off on your grand little adventure," he smirked, uncrossing his legs as he stood up from the wooden, hand crafted chair - the one left by their mother.

Castiel stared firmly, undeterred,

"You mean to say you are bothered by Michael making the choice without your input on the matter, so you're sabotaging me right now to get him back," Castiel stated with conviction. He knew his brothers, and they usually didn't get along very well. If it weren't for Castiel, actually, he was pretty sure they'd be ripping at each others throats. Gabriel scowled at Castiel's perceptiveness, but quickly returned his lips to that aloof smile,

"You guessed it, Cassie, but I don't know why you had to be a party pooper about it," he mused, and Castiel tilted his head to the side in confusion. It was very annoying when Gabriel used these sayings that Castiel could never get. It was like he was speaking in another language to purposefully throw Castiel off,

"I do not understand that reference," Castiel almost growled. Unfortunately, Gabriel _was _using it to throw Castiel off, if his triumphant smirk was anything to go by. Castiel's head flipped back over to the clock. It now read 10:40.

He threw one last glare at his older brother, before yanking the sheets back, and stepping out of bed. Unfortunately, he never finished his mental calculation earlier for the chance that their may be a trap waiting for him right when he got out of bed.

If there was any question before, though, it was now a certainty as Castiel felt something squish briefly beneath his feet, before suddenly they weren't there anymore, and Castiel fell back first onto the hard wood flooring.

Gabriel was by his side if the matter of seconds,

"Shit, bro, you were supposed to just step on the banana, not actually slip on it!" he exclaimed, sounding concerned. Castiel's back was aching, and he was still getting over the initial shock of the jarring impact. Luckily, as far as he could tell at this moment, the worst he would get was a couple of good bruises,

"Damn it, the Mythbusters were totally wrong on this one….or maybe it's just you…" Gabriel sounded contemplative. Castiel didn't understand any of that, and just groaned in pain as he sat back up, Gabriel's hand supporting his back. When he finally got his bearings back, he gave Gabriel another abrasive look,

"Are there anymore 'bananas'" he quoted the word, something he only did when he was truly upset, "I should know about before I get ready?" he asked, and Gabriel rolled his eyes as he sighed in defeat,

"There's a trip wire in the door way to the kitchen, I moved the bread into the microwave, and I rigged the shower to only run cold water," he admitted. Castiel nodded, appreciatively, before he shakily stood up, denying Gabriel's help along the way. Before he left the room, he turned to face his older brother,

"You and Michael really should get over that problem, I don't exactly enjoy getting stuck in the cross fire," Castiel pointed out. Gabriel shrugged,

"Sorry, little bro, but it is what it is, and Michael is just an ass….and I think you mean _caught _in the cross fire," he was trying to change the topic, apparently. Castiel rolled his eyes. This was going to be a very long hour and twenty minutes. He suddenly couldn't wait to get to the airport, and away from all this. It looked like this camp was a going to be a great way to escape.

* * *

Dean was brushing his teeth, hair smelling fresh from soap. His clothes clung to his slightly moist body. The shower had taken longer than he'd anticipated, and it was now…he looked down at the watch his father had gotten him for his 16th birthday. The hand pointed directly at 11:00. He had about another forty five minutes before they had to head out.

It took about fifteen minutes to get to the airport from his house, meaning he'd have to hurry to finish packing, but Dean didn't really need to bring much. The thing that was bound to be time consuming was saying good bye to his baby. The Impala. The '67 Chevy Impala, to be exact. That had been another one of the things Dean's father had given him that he always remembered fondly. There were so many good memories attached to that car, and Dean treated it like it really was a baby.

One time, when some moron had 'accidentally' scratched it while pulling into a parking space next to him, Dean had made his anger clear by smashing in the other guys window. Needless to say, it ended up being a lot more trouble than it was worth. He'd had to take anger management classes for a week, which was not only embarrassing, but also kind of degrading when Dean realized he actually did have anger problems.

He'd gotten over that for the most part, though.

Dean spit out the remaining tooth paste, looking up at his reflection in the mirror, and grinning, making sure he hadn't missed anything, even though he knew that was practically impossible, since he hadn't had anything for breakfast. He was too excited to eat, honestly, despite how child like that sounded. Well, excited and…horrified. He had a fear of planes, and while he had learned how to control his fear, it didn't make it seem any less scary.

When he was sure that his teeth were substantially clean, he made his way back to his room, stopping a foot away from the large brown suit case. He still had some space left, it was just a matter of what to bring. He was about to grab for some more underwear when he heard a voice behind him,

"You should probably bring some bug spray," Dean froze. It was Mary. He'd been trying to avoid her as much as possible - save the apologizing until later, hold it off for as long as possible. That plan was royally screwed now, though.

"Yeah, okay, Mom," he agreed, fiddling with the blankets on his bed, but still not turning around. It wasn't the saying sorry that was so hard for Dean, it was the admitting to being in the wrong that really made his teeth clench. Which was stupid, because he should feel guilty, but he really didn't. Not really. How could you apologize if you really didn't genuinely feel sorry?

Then he remembered the time John had been gone for a whole year. Dean had been ten. He remembered hearing his mother cry when his Dad didn't call for weeks on end. John would let her down every time, and Dean would go in and hug her until she stopped crying. Dean never wanted to hurt his mother that way, and he'd gotten really close last night.

"I'm sorry, Mom!" he blurted suddenly, realizing a second too late that Mary had still been talking, and he'd interrupted her. He finally turned around to face her, and she was frozen mid sentence, mouth open. She was wearing her favorite pink night gown that was made out of silk. It accented her long, blond hair. He watched and waited, until her lips rested into a gentle smile,

"It's fine, dear, I know you didn't mean it," she said, and Dean relaxed, returning her smile with relief,

"You said bug spray, right?" he asked, and Mary nodded, before heading out of the room to locate the can somewhere in the down stairs bathroom.

* * *

Castiel somehow managed to get ready in time, thanks to Gabriel feeling guilty about making him fall. Although there had been lotion in the tooth paste tube, Gabriel swore he'd just forgotten it was there. Castiel was extremely skeptical. Castiel had a travel sized one hidden away specifically for this reason, though, so it wasn't too much of a set back in the end.

They were heading out of the door at about ten till, and spent the next ten minutes to the airport talking about girls. Actually, it was mostly Gabriel talking about girls, and Castiel nodding in agreement, even though none of it really mattered to him. He'd figured out a couple years ago that he really wasn't into girls. After getting a hard on during a very small gay sex scene while watching a movie with his brother, he pretty much realized he didn't have any sort of feelings for woman other than platonic ones.

He was gay. That was it. Not that he told anyone, even his brothers. He was pretty sure, however, that Gabriel was onto him, and that meant Michael wouldn't be far behind.

Gabriel stopped in front of the stairs that led up to the building, waving a reluctant Castiel off, and then pulling away. Castiel stood and stared at the airport, people rushing in and out, women, men, families, couples, young, old - all kinds of people. This was going to be his first real trip. He'd never been gone for more than a weekend, and that was only to see some distant relatives in Texas two years ago.

Castiel took a deep breath, before heading for the glass doors. The rest of the people that would be going with him would be just past those doors, and Castiel promised himself to try and be more open with all of them. Even if it was a bit uncomfortable.

When he finally did make it inside, he was greeted by a woman with black hair, who appeared to be about Gabriel's age, and reminded Castiel of a cat. She seemed extremely comfortable in her own skin, and her stride was self confident. She wore an old T-shirt that had been torn a bit to reveal some cleavage along with some ripped jeans and tennis shoes.

_Gabriel would be drooling all over the place, _Castiel mused,

"Hi there, are you with the camp?" she asked in a slight southern accent. Yes, Gabriel would be all over this one. Castiel nodded in reply, before remembering his plan to be more open. _I should probably speak,_

"Yes, I am," he added, and smiled. _That wasn't too hard_, he told himself. The woman grinned,

"Well, it's great to meet'chya, I'm one of the group leaders, Pamela Barnes, what's your name?" this woman was very good at getting a lot of information out in one breath. Castiel cold take some pointers from her,

"My name is Castiel Novak," he answered, and Pamela's eye brows drew together,

"Are ya pulling my leg, kid?" and that's what Castiel had been waiting for. No matter who it was, when Castiel first told them his name, they always reacted with disbelief. If Castiel were the angry type, he would have probably gotten fed up by now. However, he sometimes even astounded himself with his patience,

"No, my hands are not anywhere near your legs, so I do not see how that would be possible," he hadn't meant to say that. It just came out. He knew that when he didn't understand things, he sometimes ended up sounding sarcastic, or just plain rude. He'd already said it now, though, and he couldn't rewind time, so he'd have to simply deal with it.

_I really am no good with socializing, Michael was right, _he thought to himself.

Pamela gave him an odd look, before pulling a clip board out from under her arm. Her gaze ran up and down the length of what must have been a check list. She stopped halfway down the page, and squinted, before glancing back over to Castiel, face a mixture of both surprise and pity,

"My fault, kid, but that's a very strange name ya got there," she remarked, to which Castiel tried not to roll his eyes, hand clenching tighter around the strap of his bag instead,

"Yes, I get that a lot," he sighed, looking down a bit. He loved his name, but sometimes, it was a real burden. Suddenly, Pamela's arm was around his shoulders, and he was being lead towards a crowd of people,

"Well, since you're on my list, it looks like you'll be in my group," she began explaining as Castiel glanced wearily around at all the fresh faces. There were probably about twenty people there already, and not everyone was here yet. Most people gathered in tight groups, laughing, talking, and seeming over all completely comfortable.

Castiel fidgeted nervously. Pamela must have picked up on his restlessness because she squeezed his shoulder lightly,

"Hey, don't worry, Novak, you'll settle in eventually," she assured him, "Some of these people already know each other since they're all from around here, and some go to the same school," she pointed over to a group of three that were sitting in one of the many rows of chairs a few yards away from them,

"That's what we have of our group so far over there, if ya wanna get yourself acquainted," she said, before someone shouted over the din of clacking heels, strained business men, and whining children,

"Pamela, we've got a code purple over here, I could use some help!" to which Pamela replied saying she'd be right there,

"Have fun, kid," she gave Castiel's shoulder a final squeeze, before turning and rushing off in the direction that the voice had come from. Castiel gazed after her, silently thanking her for being so kind to him, despite the fact that he was sadly lacking in social skills.

Then, with the determination of a bull fighter - okay, maybe half a bull fighter - he trotted over to the small group Pamela had pointed to. There were two guys, one who looked particularly lanky and had brown hair, and another who appeared to have a…mullet, if Castiel wasn't mistaken.

_How very odd_, he thought as he looked to the only girl so far in the group who had long red-orange hair and a soft complexion. When he approached them, the girl was the first to notice his presence, and turned to smile at him gently,

"Hello, are you in Pamela's group, too?" she asked, and Castiel immediately felt less tense. He could feel the friendliness coming off of her in almost tangible vibes,

"Yes, my name is Castiel Novak," he answered with an awkward smile. The two guys had now turned their attention to him, as well, and also sent him friendly smiles. Castiel felt relief rush through his entire body, the knot of nerves in his stomach almost completely gone,

"It's nice to meet you all," he added, nodding at the two guys in respect. The one with the mullet snorted, and motioned to an empty seat between him and the girl,

"No need to be so proper, Castiel, why don't you pop a squat?" he insisted, and Castiel's smile faded ever so slightly,

"Pop a…what?" honestly, why did people feel the need to use these sayings? They never made any sense.

The girl giggled, and shook her head in amusement a few locks of hair falling in front of her ears,

"He means sit down, Castiel," she explained, eyes alight at the scene before her. Castiel shifted,

"Oh," he said simply, before shuffling over to the seat and 'popping a squat'. Castiel stopped for a second, thinking to himself,

"Pop a squat…does that not sound just a little bizarre? It sounds like something you would do while exercising, not whilst doing a menial task such as sitting," Castiel froze. He'd just said that _whole thing. _Out loud. In front of these people. He'd just completely embarrassed himself! They probably thought he was some kind of nerdy outcast, now. Crap, and it had started out so promising, too!

Maybe…maybe this was a sign. Maybe he should call Gabriel to come and pick him back up. This was just too much, he knew he was going to make an idiot of himself. He knew it!

He was about to stand up when suddenly, a chorus of laughs broke out, and Castiel was shocked back from his horrified daze. They were all laughing. Mullet guy was slapping his leg, and the other guy had a hand over his mouth completely doubled over. Even the girl looked close to tears from laughter.

Castiel looked from person to person, unsure of whether he should be offended, or astonished.

Mullet guy slapped him on his back without warning, almost causing Castiel to choke on his own spit,

"Dude, you are priceless!" he began, breathing hard as he tried to regain his breath. Castiel didn't know what he meant by that, but he supposed it really didn't matter.

"My name's Ash, and this string bean next to me is Garth," he pointed over to the lanky guy, who smiled sheepishly, and waved. Castiel nodded to him, suddenly realizing that he was smiling. He wasn't sure why what he'd done had made them laugh, but he really didn't care. He was liked. He felt accepted, and that was enough for now,

"And I'm Anna Milton. We all go to the private school in the next town over," the girl finished with her own introduction. Castiel's smile widened,

"Well, it's very nice to meet you, Ash, Garth and Anna Milton," he beamed at them in turn. This was turning out much nicer than he would have thought.

* * *

Castiel worried his lip as the talking quieted amongst the peppering of people. It was time to be assigned their partners for the trip. Pamela had come over and briefed them on the basic protocol - no drugs or alcohol - and explained to them about the buddy system.

There were thirty two people in all, which were divided into four subgroups of eight, and then paired off into four groups of two within the main group. You were to stay with your partner at all times, other than, of course, the obvious bathroom situations, and this system was intended not only for safety, but also to help learn how to build strong bonds despite differences.

After two failed attempts at getting the groups completely separated, what with some people having just arrived, Pamela and some guy named Balthazar who was another group leader, decided to go ahead and just call names off, so they could would get done in time to board the plane. Pamela was the last to go, and the suspense was driving Castiel crazy,

_What if it's someone I don't know? Then I'll have to go through that whole meeting and ontroduction ordeal again! Oh, God, whoever it is, please be someone I've already met! _he pleaded in his own mind as Pamela read down the list,

"Anna and Charlie….Garth and Meg….Ash and Joanna…" Castiel felt an itch at the back of his mind,

_Joanna, Joanna…I feel like I've heard that name before,_ he thought in his mind, the cog wheels turning, but only coming up with air. He couldn't remember where he'd heard that name before,

"And finally, Castiel and Dean," she finished,

"Alrighty, that sums it up, find your partners, and lets head out!" she yelled, and everyone broke into action, yelling names, and looking around for people.

Castiel, however, was stuck in place, mouth hanging open in shock and eyes still fixed on the same place they had been for the last five seconds.

_Joanna. Joanna Harvelle, as in Dean Winchester's best friend? But that could only mean….No…_

_No way! _Castiel's mind was still not anywhere near convinced. It _had_ to be a coincidence. It just _had _to be.

Castiel should know better than to believe in coincidences, though, and he did, and yet, here he stood.

A familiar voice pulled him out of his second shock induced daze of the day,

"Hey, Castiel, dude, this is a really strange coincidence, isn't it?" Now how was a voice that…_hot_….even legal?

_Oh God, no…I am completely into him….how do I stop it!_

It was like someone had given Castiel rose colored glasses, and now, his 'insatiable interest' in Dean was abruptly uncovered, and Castiel saw what it really was - attraction. Maybe even borderline obsession.

Castiel's neck felt like cracking ice as he turned to face a grinning Dean.

Castiel tried - he really did - not to stare at Dean's exposed biceps, but, Damn it, everything about him was criminal!

Castiel was most definitely addicted to this gorgeous, almost-porn star - _No, Castiel! _- guy.

_Why did I wish for someone I knew! _he asked himself in panic as he gave Dean a small, half smile.

_I am so very screwed._

* * *

**_So, I suppose in summary, Castiel is screwed. The next chapter is going to be very...fun to write. _**

**_Castiel kind of freaked out on me there at the end. That's what summer does to you, though, you see things through rose tinted glasses. In this case, however, I think it was more like Castiel finally had enough sense to remove the gosh darn blind fold. Thank you, Castiel. Good job. _**


End file.
